Read Online Elizabeth English - The Borderlands 02 by Laird of the Mist - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laird of the Mist
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shook her head wordlessly and turned to flee.
"Wait ! " Ronan called.
"Tell me--"
But Deirdre could not stay to answer. She was running
for her life now, and with every step she could hear Brodie gaining. She
chanced a quick glance over her shoulder and saw him just behind her, his face
flushed with rage. He reached out his hand and she screamed, then ran headlong
into something solid.
"Here, now," Alistair Kirallen said,
catching her in his arms. She buried her face against his chest with an
incoherent cry. "Dinna fear, lady," he said soothingly. "No harm
will come to ye."
She lifted her head and he smiled down at her, one
lock of golden hair falling across his brow. With a careless motion he waved
one hand and the mist descended like a curtain, hiding Brodie from her sight.
"I can summon the mist as I will," Alistair
said. "Bid it come or go at my command. Ye can trust me, lady, 'twas
written long ago. Do ye not know that?"
"Aye, I do," she whispered. "I do know
that."
He bent to her and she wound her arms around his
neck...
"Mam ! "
Deirdre shook her head, clinging to her dream, even as
it dissolved like sea foam on the sand. With a sigh she rolled over and opened
her eyes to find herself staring into Maeve's face.
"Hungry, Mam ! Hungry ! "
Deirdre sat up and rubbed her eyes with shaking hands.
She summoned a smile for her daughter and kissed Maeve's dark curls.
"Feeling better, sweeting? I'll find you
something to eat, then."
She remembered the men below and jumped guiltily to
her feet, realizing dawn was almost upon them. Brodie would be up soon, and
judging by all he'd had to drink last night, his temper would be foul.
"Stay here, love," she ordered Maeve.
"Quietly now, just as quiet as a mouse, until I come back."
"Aye, Mam," Maeve said, her eyes moving
toward the doorway of the chamber where Brodie slept. She put a finger to her
lips and nodded solemnly.
She'll be safe enough, Deirdre told herself, so long
as she keeps out of Brodie's way. Aye, today she will be safe, and perhaps
tomorrow, but what will become of Maeve when she grows to womanhood? She'll be
married off at her father's will, and I'll have no say at all.
What if Maeve is given to a man like Brodie?
I have to save her, Deirdre thought wildly. I'll send
her to my father—only for a visit—I can say 'tis for her health. If Father
writes and says she died, perhaps Brodie won't question overmuch... Despair
washed over her as she realized Brodie would never allow such a visit, not even
if Maeve's very life depended on it.
Unless, perhaps, Deirdre could provide him with the
son he craved. Then he might grant her this small thing.
"Deirdre ! Damn your eyes, ye
lazy bitch, where the devil are ye?"
She started at the sound of Brodie's voice, her
dream-terror vivid in her mind. She remembered the rest of her dream and a hard
smile touched her lips. She was twenty years old, no child now, and the time
had come to accept things as they were.
There is no help for me, she thought, straightening
her shoulders. But 'tis not too late for Maeve. No matter what I have to do, I
will see she gets to Donegal. And once she is gone, I will see she never comes
back here again.
"I'm coming, Brodie," she called.
"Mousie," Maeve said, diving under the
coverlet.
"That's right," Deirdre said. "That's
my good little mousie. Stay here and if you're very quiet, I'll bring you a bit
of cheese."
CHAPTER 8
"D amn the man!" Ross Maxwell swore beneath his
breath. "He is a fool—"
"Quiet," Alistair snapped, crouching against
the outcropping of rock that shielded the two men from the fighting. "We
have our orders. Now wait for his signal."
The field below was filled with shouting men and the
clash of weapons echoed up the hillside.
"Pitching stones down on the Johnsons!" Ross
turned his head and spat into the river raging far below. "Like as not
we'll crush our own men and horses along with theirs."
"Aye, we might," Alistair agreed. "But
it's his battle,
"Wait ! " Ronan called.
"Tell me--"
But Deirdre could not stay to answer. She was running
for her life now, and with every step she could hear Brodie gaining. She
chanced a quick glance over her shoulder and saw him just behind her, his face
flushed with rage. He reached out his hand and she screamed, then ran headlong
into something solid.
"Here, now," Alistair Kirallen said,
catching her in his arms. She buried her face against his chest with an
incoherent cry. "Dinna fear, lady," he said soothingly. "No harm
will come to ye."
She lifted her head and he smiled down at her, one
lock of golden hair falling across his brow. With a careless motion he waved
one hand and the mist descended like a curtain, hiding Brodie from her sight.
"I can summon the mist as I will," Alistair
said. "Bid it come or go at my command. Ye can trust me, lady, 'twas
written long ago. Do ye not know that?"
"Aye, I do," she whispered. "I do know
that."
He bent to her and she wound her arms around his
neck...
"Mam ! "
Deirdre shook her head, clinging to her dream, even as
it dissolved like sea foam on the sand. With a sigh she rolled over and opened
her eyes to find herself staring into Maeve's face.
"Hungry, Mam ! Hungry ! "
Deirdre sat up and rubbed her eyes with shaking hands.
She summoned a smile for her daughter and kissed Maeve's dark curls.
"Feeling better, sweeting? I'll find you
something to eat, then."
She remembered the men below and jumped guiltily to
her feet, realizing dawn was almost upon them. Brodie would be up soon, and
judging by all he'd had to drink last night, his temper would be foul.
"Stay here, love," she ordered Maeve.
"Quietly now, just as quiet as a mouse, until I come back."
"Aye, Mam," Maeve said, her eyes moving
toward the doorway of the chamber where Brodie slept. She put a finger to her
lips and nodded solemnly.
She'll be safe enough, Deirdre told herself, so long
as she keeps out of Brodie's way. Aye, today she will be safe, and perhaps
tomorrow, but what will become of Maeve when she grows to womanhood? She'll be
married off at her father's will, and I'll have no say at all.
What if Maeve is given to a man like Brodie?
I have to save her, Deirdre thought wildly. I'll send
her to my father—only for a visit—I can say 'tis for her health. If Father
writes and says she died, perhaps Brodie won't question overmuch... Despair
washed over her as she realized Brodie would never allow such a visit, not even
if Maeve's very life depended on it.
Unless, perhaps, Deirdre could provide him with the
son he craved. Then he might grant her this small thing.
"Deirdre ! Damn your eyes, ye
lazy bitch, where the devil are ye?"
She started at the sound of Brodie's voice, her
dream-terror vivid in her mind. She remembered the rest of her dream and a hard
smile touched her lips. She was twenty years old, no child now, and the time
had come to accept things as they were.
There is no help for me, she thought, straightening
her shoulders. But 'tis not too late for Maeve. No matter what I have to do, I
will see she gets to Donegal. And once she is gone, I will see she never comes
back here again.
"I'm coming, Brodie," she called.
"Mousie," Maeve said, diving under the
coverlet.
"That's right," Deirdre said. "That's
my good little mousie. Stay here and if you're very quiet, I'll bring you a bit
of cheese."
CHAPTER 8
"D amn the man!" Ross Maxwell swore beneath his
breath. "He is a fool—"
"Quiet," Alistair snapped, crouching against
the outcropping of rock that shielded the two men from the fighting. "We
have our orders. Now wait for his signal."
The field below was filled with shouting men and the
clash of weapons echoed up the hillside.
"Pitching stones down on the Johnsons!" Ross
turned his head and spat into the river raging far below. "Like as not
we'll crush our own men and horses along with theirs."
"Aye, we might," Alistair agreed. "But
it's his battle,
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